


cracked, not shattered

by hoppnhorn



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove is a Mess, Enemies to Friends, First Aid, Harringrove, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Injury, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pre-Harringrove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoppnhorn/pseuds/hoppnhorn
Summary: Harrington still looks confused as fuck when they lock eyes again."You think I'm okay?" Steve asks. And Billy chuffs, ready to tell him he looksbetterthan okay when Harrington lets out a nasty laugh. One that isn’t reallyhappyand more disgusted. “I’m out here in the woods in the middle of the night and you think I’mokay?”Billy hasn’t ever seen Steve pissed before. Even at the Byers house, he’d been some sort of noble and not actuallyfurious. But for a moment, his face cracks into something ugly. Something Billy has seen so many times.Rage.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 9
Kudos: 361
Collections: Harringrove for RAICES





	cracked, not shattered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TolSirion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolSirion/gifts).



> I am so very tardy with my RAICES pieces, but I'm getting there! tolsirion on tumblr donated for 2k of steve patching billy up. <3 I hope I tagged the right person (their tumblr is deactivated...) I hope they see this and enjoy!

He’s drunker than he’s been for a long time. Okay, maybe not  _ that _ long.

The halloween party was only a few weeks ago, but in Billy’s mind it feels like months. Like the world around him had been moving while he stood still. Walking in slow motion.

At least, that’s how it all feels after that one night at the Byers house. The night he stormed in, ready to scare Lucas Sinclair back into the third grade, and wound up being body slammed into a refrigerator by Steve Harrington.

What fell out  _ after _ is really what sent the night swirling. 

Monsters. Tunnels. Vines and shit. 

His Halloween had gone down in a  _ big way _ and now he’s wandering around the woods in his spare time, a bottle of  _ whatever  _ he can scrounge up in one hand. 

And an axe in the other. 

Because that feels a lot more normal than the rest of his life, at this point. People mill about in the center of town, laughing,  _ carefree _ . And he envies them all. Wishes for their ignorance. 

It was only a few weeks ago that they were all so close to losing. So close, it was rotting right beneath their feet.

Sometimes he yells at the trees, tells monsters to stay the hell out of Hawkins. Like he  _ cares  _ about the place. 

He really,  _ really _ doesn’t. 

He misses the ocean and the warm sand between his toes. He misses waking up to the smell of summer and the warm sunshine turning him a subtle brown over days and days and days. 

He’s almost ghostly white now, to match the rest of the town. It’s apparently not even close to  _ winter _ cold in November, and he’s shivering in his leather jacket, downing his booze to keep warm. 

Which is how he wound up so  _ drunk _ , probably. 

Drunk enough to stumble stupidly over a root and fall flat on his fucking face. 

It’s not a fight, per se, but he loses anyway. 

“Hargrove!” 

Billy rolls over onto his back, stares up at the endless black when Steve’s face pops into view, concern furrowing his brow. 

“King Steve.” He grunts, lifting his  _ now empty _ bottle from where it fell at his side. Yeah, he’s  _ a lot _ drunker than he’d realized. The sky is swirling up above, if the twinkling lights are anything to go by. 

“Jesus. I heard you fall from like, a hundred yards.” Steve’s hand is suddenly in his, warm and firm as he hoists Billy back to his feet. He didn’t even realize he’d  _ reached _ for help, but he doesn’t let go all that quickly. A little telling, a little lonely. “I thought maybe you were in trouble but…” Steve takes the empty bottle from Billy’s hand, tosses it with a snort. “You’re the trouble.”

“Always appreciate a good rescue, Harrington.” He teases, pulling out of Steve’s grip as proudly as possible, though the burn of his touch lingers. “I was just fine.” 

“The huge  _ gash _ in your face says otherwise.” Steve counters with a cool smirk. And like,  _ right _ , that might be why Billy can smell iron and his face feels  _ wet _ , but he wasn’t about to  _ whine _ . “Come on.” Steve adds with a roll of his eyes when Billy doesn’t  _ ask _ for help.

He’s too in the red on that one. There’s too much to fix in him. 

“You abducting me?” Billy grunts, trying his best to keep an eye on the  _ ground _ while Steve collects his axe, swings it over his shoulder. 

That’s when Billy spies his bat, realizes that Harrington must have been out there for a similar reason. 

“I’m going to hose you off and make sure you don’t freeze to death.” Steve grumbles back at him. 

“How  _ charitable _ of you.” 

“How  _ nice _ , you mean?” Steve snorts at him, shaking his head.

“Same thing.” Billy trudges after him, tries not to stare at the way Steve’s back flexes with an axe and bat slung over his shoulders. He looks good, walking steady and sure, his breath white in the dark air. 

Turns out they were further out than Billy thought, his face properly aching by the time they reach the road. The Camaro is parked along the trees with Steve’s BMW only a few yards behind. 

“Sure you didn’t come looking for me?” He teases, kicking one of the car’s tires when Steve unlocks the trunk and sets both weapons inside. With a snort, he shakes his head and his torso disappears into the depths of the car.

“How do you walk through doorways with that head of yours?” Steve mutters. 

Billy thinks about an answer, but the ground happens to slant too far one direction, and suddenly his ability to  _ stand _ slips out from under him. 

Like his feet. 

He manages to keep from falling on his  _ face _ again, but instead slides down the side of Steve’s car until his butt falls hard on the grass. 

“Woah—” Steve is at this side in seconds, but Billy waves him off. 

“Just takin’ a seat, relax.” He grumbles, but Steve rights him against the car, keeps him from slumping clear to the ground. 

“Sure, we’ll stick with that if you want.” The guy grunts. “Jesus, you stink.” He adds. 

It’s only then that Billy realizes just how  _ close _ he is, crouched down, gripping him by his jacket. Steve is  _ holding him up _ , and all Billy can think is how  _ pretty _ he looks with pink cheeks and a red nose. 

“What?” Steve’s eyes go owlish, staring directly at him and Billy gulps. Did he actually say that out  _ loud _ ?

“Get off me, Harrington.” He grunts instead, batting away the hands that he doesn’t really want  _ off _ but. 

This is  _ Hawkins _ . 

He can’t afford to make a mistake here. 

“Try not to pass out, ‘kay?” Steve says, a smirk on his lips. And then he’s standing, walking away, and Billy feels the ground tilt under his feet. If he were less proud, he’d plead for Steve to stay. To not go. But he bites back the words and finds a stick in the grass to stare at, concentrating on seeing each little knot in the wood. 

“Why are you  _ like this _ ?” He mutters aloud, to the wind or to Steve, he’s not entirely positive. But Harrington reappears with an arched brow so he assumes the loser had been listening. 

“Why am I helping you?” 

“No.” Billy groans, his back starting to ache and his knee protesting  _ finally _ from falling flat to the ground. Steve watches as he squirms against the car, trying to find a position where he doesn’t feel  _ miserable _ . 

Like the cold has washed away all his buzz and now he’s left with stark  _ sobriety _ . 

“Why am I like what?” Steve asks again. 

Billy slumps against the car and sighs. 

“Why are you  _ okay _ ?” He grunts, a little too loud for just a question and more like an accusation. And Steve blinks at him, mouth open and dumb and just  _ hanging  _ there. So Billy fills the void with all the words he can summon. “There are fucking  _ monsters _ and kids who have powers and  _ tunnels _ in the ground and you’re just…” He waves a hand and Steve looks down at himself like somehow his stupid flannel shirt will yield clarity. 

It doesn’t. 

Harrington still looks confused as fuck when they lock eyes again. 

“You think I’m okay?” Steve asks. And Billy chuffs, ready to tell him he looks  _ better _ than okay when Harrington lets out a nasty laugh. One that isn’t really  _ happy _ and more disgusted. “I’m out here in the woods in the middle of the night and you think I’m  _ okay _ ?” 

Billy hasn’t ever seen Steve pissed before. Even at the Byers house, he’d been some sort of noble and not actually  _ furious _ . But for a moment, his face cracks into something ugly. Something Billy has seen so many times. 

Rage. 

“I don’t  _ sleep _ . I drive around with a bat in my passenger’s seat, looking for monsters because otherwise I’m just  _ waiting around _ for one to find me first.” 

It’s a feeling Billy is familiar with. Since he can remember. 

“You hide it well.” He manages, sliding up on the car to sit straighter. Like a person and not a rag doll. “Lot better than me.” 

Steve sighs and all the anger flows from him like the steam of his breath. 

“I’m not new to the monster thing though.” He offers. “Less afraid, more angry, I guess.” 

Billy wants to say he’s not  _ afraid _ , but that would be lying and he  _ knows _ it’s written all over his face. Down to the huge  _ gash _ in his forehead. 

“You hide it well too.” Steve adds, setting a little case down on the asphalt. “At first, I hid in my house at night. Needed every light on to get a wink of sleep.” Billy watches him pull out gauze and swabs and alcohol. A little first aid kit, right there in Harrington’s trunk. “I didn’t go looking for monsters while lit. You’re hiding  _ fear _ pretty well.” Steve snorts and Billy lets his lips loose. 

“I’m used to being afraid.” He spouts. Too readily. And Steve catches his eye, waits for more and Billy wants to  _ say it _ . But the words ball up in his throat. Make him choke. 

He looks away instead, battling back the prickle of something in his eyes. 

“Max says your Dad is an asshole.” Billy nearly tips clean over from whipping his head around. Steve isn’t looking at him, exactly. He’s focusing on dabbing his forehead with a cotton ball, the sting radiating through Billy’s face. But he doesn’t flinch or fuss, grinding his jaw instead while Steve cleans the cut. “Says he can get rough.” 

Billy swallows down the lies, the angry deflections that have been rehearsed and reused for  _ years _ . 

He just watches Steve, and Steve keeps cleaning.

“Chief Hopper has gotten me out of some binds with my parents before. I’m sure he’d talk to your dad—” 

“I’m gay.” Billy spits out and the words on Harrington’s lips fall swiftly into silence. He finally looks Billy in the eye, hands hovering over his wounded forehead, and Billy watches as the words make their way to Steve’s brain. 

He waits for the understanding. The disgust. 

“Oh.” Is all he gets. Then Steve is dabbing at his forehead again, staring at it. 

“The old man has been trying to beat the fag out of me since I can remember, so. Unless  _ Chief Hopper _ can smooth over me being a  _ queer _ …” He lets the sentence fade and finds the stick in the grass again. Tries to hold back the stinging in his eyes. 

He fails. 

“Hopper could scare the piss out of him instead.” Steve says after a few moments. And Billy sees him smiling when he swipes at his eyes. 

“Yeah, right.” 

“His dad was a drunk, I think. Pretty sure Hop would appreciate the opportunity to tune up a shitty father for you.” Steve says with a straight face. A real smile still on his lips. 

“I don’t deserve it.” He utters. Steve sits back on his knees, lowers his hands, and his expression twists into something sad. Billy wants to smack the look away. “ _ This. _ ” He clarifies with a lift of his head. At Harrington. Or something along those lines. “I wanted to turn you into pulp that night…” 

His skin pulls tight against his body when he remembers, a shiver running down the length of his spine. He’d been  _ seething _ with rage, aching for a fight so badly he’d been willing to pummel the one person he actually  _ enjoyed _ running into in Hawkins. 

The prettiest boy in nowhere Indiana. 

“But you didn’t.” Steve says gently. With more kindness than he ever thought he’d  _ get _ from someone he’s punched in the face. “Hell, Jonathan did more damage than you did.”

“Byers?” He sneers and Steve grins. Goofy and stupid and downright  _ sweet _ . 

“He burst like, five blood vessels in my eye.” He points to his left and Billy, stupidly, looks at it. It’s only big and brown and  _ pretty _ staring back at him. “And I kept opening my lip back up for like, a  _ month _ —”

“Hey, I got  _ two _ hits in before you railroaded me into the fridge.” Billy grunts miserably, remembering how Steve’s arms had caged in around his ribs like he was trying to tackle him. “The fight pretty much ended after that.” 

“Yeah, it did.” Steve rummages in his kit, pulls out a roll of medical tape. Billy pushes it away. 

“Thanks but no thanks, Harrington.” He grunts. “I’ve got it from here.”

“Billy, come on—”

“Hands off, pretty boy.” It takes him a minute to roll onto his knees, plant a foot to hoist himself upright, but he does it without any help. At least, none of  _ Steve’s _ help, his free hand planted on the BMW for balance. 

He’s cold when he stands, the illusion warmth of booze drifting away like the minutes. Hiding a shiver, Billy crosses his arms, shields himself with a smarmy smile. 

“I know I’m hard to resist.” Billy sneers and Steve looks downright  _ tired _ when he shakes his head, putting his kit back in the trunk. He doesn’t even  _ respond _ and something in the pit of Billy’s stomach turns heavy, flips over. “Anyway.” 

Steve meets his eye, lifts one brow, and Billy holds his breath like he might  _ pass out _ from all the effort it takes. For  _ one _ word. 

“Thanks.” 

Harrington blinks. Then his lips do something funny; an attempt at hiding a smile, Billy thinks. It’s  _ annoying _ , how that small smile seems to warm Billy from the inside even though it’s not an  _ actual _ smile. Just a shadow of one, a twitch in the corner of Steve’s mouth. But from head to toe, Billy can feel the glee of it tingling under his skin. 

“You hungry?” Steve suddenly asks, before quickly waving a hand and heading towards the driver’s seat of his car. “You need to sober up anyway. Get in.” 

Billy sort of stares after him, wondering how falling in the woods had turned into  _ this _ . Steve doesn’t wait for him to answer. He opens the car door and sits, starting the engine without bothering to look back. 

And for once, Billy just does what he’s told. 


End file.
